


Here There Be Dragons

by beezelbubbles



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: M/M, Meanwhile, Slow Build, The Good The Bad and The Cuddly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 08:07:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14444988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beezelbubbles/pseuds/beezelbubbles
Summary: Constantine has a Plan. Gary is beginning to suspect that is actually much less comforting than it ought to be. Director Sharpe would not approve. But she's off helping the Legends with something and hadn’t even asked if he’d like to come. Obviously she meant for him to hold down the fort at the Time Bureau. Even if she didn’t say so. Or say anything at all. So when Constantine showed up at his apartment asking for help with “just a touch of a problem, squire,” he was more than happy to say yes. He's a Time Agent, dang it, and Constantine came to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilery for The Good, The Bad, and The Cuddly. Sort of. It will be.

Gary was awakened by a pounding at his door. He’d come back to 2018 for a bit of sleep before returning to the Time Bureau and the current crisis at hand. Agent Sharpe had left, muttering about the Legends and Mallus, but hadn’t said anything about chain of command or help. So he’d stepped in, as usual, to keep things running smoothly. The anachronisms were everywhere, and he was worried that time was on the verge of shredding itself again, and if that happened, he wasn’t sure it could be put back together again. Nobody listened to him, but he’d gotten pretty good at forging Director Sharpe’s signature, and a little more cavalier about using it. He pulled his glasses on, and stumbled to the front door. A glimpse through the peephole showed a shock of blonde hair above a tan trenchcoat. Constantine on his doorstep again. Things had ended well after the D&D game, but turn up in the middle of the night well?

“Uh, just a second,” Gary called through the door, as he undid the locks and got it open. “Constantine, hi. What brings you here?” _Please let it be a need for late night cuddles._

“Gary, I need your help,” he said.

Gary tried to contain a soft squeeing noise that still managed to slip out. He cleared his throat. “My … my help?”

“Yeah, we’ve got a bit of a problem, squire. Mind if I come in?”

Gary stepped aside and motioned Constantine in. “A problem? What kind of problem? There have been a lot of problems lately.”

Constantine sauntered into the apartment, small duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. “It’s Sara and her bloody crew. They let Mallus out of his prison, without a thought of what else might be in there.”

“Mallus is free? We have to go help—”

“Not so fast. Does nobody bloody listen when I talk? Mallus isn’t the only thing loose in the world now.” He cast about for an ashtray, and settled for an empty cereal bowl. “Sara and the others have the totems, there’s not much we can add to the fight there. And you and me, we’re needed elsewhere.”

Gary tried to ignore the thrill that ran down his spine at that you and me. “What are we doing?”

“We’ll start with something simple, a minor demon, name of Arazel. Fancies himself a dragon.”

“A dragon,” Gary said. He knew that maybe he should be a little more open-minded since there was a currently a battle with an actual facts time demon happening somewhen. But a dragon? “An actual—” he flapped his arms a couple of times and gave a whoosh of air, “dragon dragon? With fire breath? Or is it acid? Ice? What color is it?”

Constantine dropped the duffel on the couch, and chuckled while he made his way to the kitchen. “Nah, mate, not like in your game. Well, maybe a little bit like in your game. Quite a few books to read there.” He started rummaging around in the fridge. Gary followed and leaned against the doorframe. “He’s dragon shaped. Green, mostly, and aye, breathes fire.” He pulled out an armful of sandwich fixings and closed the door. “The tricky part,” he paused while he rummaged in the cabinets.

“The bread is in the top left,” Gary said, not taking his eyes off of him.

“Ah, thanks. The tricky part, is that lot left the prison door open, so we can’t just send him back where he came from. I’ll need to take his head off with a particular sword.”

“Well, that sounds right. You usually need special weapons to take down a dragon.”

“The other tricky bit is said sword hasn’t been seen in 600 years. And no spell I’ve used has turned it up. So I need you, and your time travel device. We’re going to go back and just take it from the last place it was seen.”

Gary tried to get his shocked face under control. “We can’t! Not without clearance. I’m supposed to fix anachronisms, not create them.”

Constantine leaned against the corner, and ate his sandwich while he regarded Gary.

“I’m sorry, Constantine, but I can’t. Director Sharpe will be angry.”

Constantine raised an eyebrow.

“She’s the _director_ , my boss. If she’s angry, then I don’t have a job anymore.” Gary tried to keep the thread, and not be distracted by the hollow at the base of Constantine’s throat. _Don’t think about licking it. Don’t think about licking it._ “And I like my job.” _Lick it!_ He swallowed hard, and tried to look defiant. It didn’t work.

Constantine shrugged. “Alright, mate, if that’s the way it is. Can’t have you getting in trouble with the boss.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I can get myself from realm to realm. Time period to time period won’t be much harder, eh? Just seemed to me that if anyone wanted to come along to slay a dragon it’d be you.” He gestured noncommittally with the last of his sandwich before finishing it.

“I want to come, really I do—”

“Good lad!” Constantine crossed the kitchen in two strides and clapped a hand on Gary’s shoulder. “Let’s get you dressed and be on our way.”

Dressed? Gary looked down and groaned. How had he forgotten he was still wearing his Beebo pj pants? Constantine slipped past him, and he held his breath as it seemed the warlock lingered for just a second longer than necessary.

“I’ve got something for you,” said Constantine, digging through the duffel, and pulling out replicas of his own clothes.

“You want me to dress like you?” asked Gary. “Is this a uniform thing?”

“Ah no. There’s one last problem. Arazel knows me, and he definitely doesn’t like me. So I’m going to need you to be just a wee bit of bait. ”He held up a wig. “We’ll save this bit until it’s really necessary, eh?”

Gary’s mind glossed right over the bait part. It wouldn’t be the first time. Being bait was an important and valuable mission contribution. If he told himself that enough times he could believe it.  “You really think I could pass for you?”

Constantine stepped up to him, so they were nearly touching. Gary could feel the warmth coming off of him, and resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss him. It would be so easy. Constantine smiled a smile that went all the way to his eyes. Gary froze, suddenly very aware of just how thin his pj pants were, and just how close Constantine was.

“Now, let’s see,” he said. “Right height.” He ran a hand through Gary’s hair. “Wig’ll take care of that.” He cupped Gary’s face, and ran a thumb along his jaw. “Stubble will come in by the time we’ve got the sword.” He put his other hand at Gary’s waist. “Bit skinny, but maybe Arazel will think I haven’t been eating.” Gary swallowed hard. “Yeah, squire, you’ll do just fine.”

_Kiss him! Kiss him! Beebo pants be damned! Just kiss him!_ “I’ll just go… change then.”

Constantine didn’t move.

Gary suddenly, uncomfortably, knew what the phrase a deer in headlights meant. Really gorgeous headlights with surprisingly long lashes, and the start of crow’s feet, but in a sexy way, not an old person way. “I need the uhm clothes if I’m going to—”

“Right.”

And Gary could have sworn Constantine squeezed his hip before letting go and stepping aside. He scooped up the clothes and headed to his bedroom. He had the pants on, and was halfway into the shirt before he realized that he was basically wearing his own work uniform, minus the jacket and plus a few wrinkles, and there was no reason to wear Constantine’s clothes beyond the trenchcoat and maybe the tie. Maybe it was a magic thing? Some kind of glamour spell to help him pass? The shirt certainly smelled like Constantine — cigarette smoke, incense, and whiskey. And that was all the reason Gary needed to finish putting it on.

When he emerged from the bedroom, Constantine was examining his bookshelves. They were a mix of gaming books, scifi and fantasy, and histories. Though he was careful to keep only period appropriate history books here. Anything published after 2018 was kept in his office at the Time Bureau. It wouldn’t do to have a member of his D&D group stumble onto something they shouldn’t see. His shelves were all sorted with almost library precision, but there was nobody like a nerd for prowling bookshelves. Much the way Constantine was now. Gary watched him, trying to get some sense of what he thought of the collection.

“Lot of these look like they’ve only been read once,” said Constantine without turning.

“Perfect recall,” said Gary. “I don’t need to read them more than once. But having them around makes it easier to remember.”

“There’s a handy trick.” Constantine clapped his hands together. “Now, squire, on with our quest. St. George’s sword. Now George killed the dragon in Libya, but relics do get around. We’re wanting the Kingdom of Georgia in 1214. It should be in a reliquary in Tbilisi.”

Gary paused before tapping coordinates into his time courier. “And there’s no other way? It has to be this sword? Taken from this time?”

“Mate, the bloody thing falls out of the world then, near as I can tell. This sword, that time. It’s the only way.”

“Director Sharpe isn’t going to like this,” said Gary, opening the portal.

“Aye, but that’s half the fun.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warlock, a time agent, and a sorceress walk into Tbilsi, all after the same sword.

The time portal opened into a dark alleyway behind a stone building, a far cry from Gary’s cozy, softly lit apartment. They stepped through and into 13th century Tbilsi. Constantine dug around in his pockets and pulled out a compass.

“I worked this up to help us find the sword.” He muttered a bit of latin over it, and blew. Golden sparks fanned out in front of him, falling away until only a line remained, leading toward the building directly ahead of them. “And there we are. Good job.”

Gary grinned, his whole face lighting up. He’d never learned not to wear his heart on his sleeve. Not that he could when it came to compliments, even the smallest ones, from Constantine.

The line of sparks wavered, and then jerked left.

“Oh well now, isn’t that perfect,” said Constantine, following the sparks. “Gary, m’boy, looks like we aren’t the only ones here for the sword.” He broke into a run.

Gary considered the path the sparks seemed to be taking and looked around the alleyway. He cut down between the next two buildings and emerged on the street to see a woman gliding serenely away, sword in hand. _I’m a time agent. A real agent who is completely qualified to to be in the field. It’s okay, Constantine is just around the corner._ He took a deep breath. “Stop there.”

To his surprise, the woman did stop. When she turned, her face was a glittering golden mask. “Who dares to command Morgaine Le Fay?” She flicked her hand and he was flung against the wall. “Begone, mortal. This is none of your concern.”

“Morgaine Le Fay, eh? Now what do you want with St. George’s sword?” Constantine stood, hands shoved in his pockets, unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. Gary wasn't sure how he'd managed to get around the building so quickly, but he wasn't about to start questioning it now. 

“You must be the one who set  the tracking spell. What I do is no business of yours, magician” she said disdainfully, though nothing she’d said so far hadn’t been dripping with disdain. She flicked her hand towards Constantine but, rather than being thrown as Gary had been, there was only a shimmer in the air around him.

“Love, I think you’ll find I’m a master of the dark arts.” He winked at Gary. “Says so right on my card. Now hand over the sword. We were here to steal it first.”

Gary hauled himself to his feet. _Morgaine Le Fay_ , the words rattled around in his head. _Magic is real. What else is real? Who else is real?_ He looked around the street. It was deserted. _Morgaine, sister to King Arthur, caused the fall of Camelot, mother of…_ A young boy’s head, topped with golden curls and a velvet cap poked around a corner and withdrew quickly. _Mordred._ Gary slipped back down the alley and circled around, trying not to wince at the sound of magical blows that Morgaine and Constantine were exchanging. At least it sounded like he was holding his own. He came up behind a boy of about ten, who kept taking looks around the corner, muttering cheers and curses alternately. Subduing a kid, now this Gary could handle. Probably. He was like 90% sure. _Think like a Legend. Think like a Legend._

Mordred leaned over to take a look at the fight, scowling and muttering, “He’s not playing _fair_.”

_Think like a Legend._ Gary lunged and grabbed Mordred’s arms, and wrestled him out into the street. “Morgaine! We have something of yours!”

Morgaine was reeling, small electric sparks coming off of her. But the sight of Mordred stopped her cold. “Mordred! Unhand him, mortal. Or face thy doom.”

_What would Captain Lance do?_ Gary pulled his memory flasher from his pocket. He hoped it looked impressive. “A trade. The sword for the boy. Or you hope you can destroy me before I can erase his mind. Bigby’s Wand of Memory Cleansing is not to be trifled with!” _Come on bluff roll…_ He held his breath.

Constantine watched Morgaine warily. His cigarette was gone, and a bit of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “He’s right, pet. The boy’s mind will be gone before any spell you have can take hold. And no magic, not even yours, can bring it back.”

“Mother, destroy them,” shouted Mordred, struggling against Gary’s grip. “No, Mordred. I will not risk your mind. I yield to the wizard Bigby and his magician. We shall find another way” She floated the sword to Constantine, who grabbed it eagerly.

When Constantine and the sword were safely at Gary’s side, he released Mordred with a gentle push in Morgaine’s direction.

“I will be king and you will be sorry!”

“Aye lad, sure, we believe you. But don’t be hurt if we choose not to hold our breath until then.” He turned to Gary, smirking. “Bigby, a portal to your castle if you please?”

Gary opened a time portal back to his apartment. As they stepped through, he heard Morgaine call out, “This injury will not be forgotten, Bigby. When next we meet you shall not be so lucky.”

Once they were through and the portal closed, he asked Constantine, “How worried should I be about that?”

He shrugged. “She’s powerful, but she doesn’t have your name or know when or where to look for you. And she has her own worries. A demon by the name of Etrigan keeps her on her toes. There’re only two reasons she wanted the sword — to deal with him, or something to do with getting ahold of the Philosopher’s Stone.” He paused. “Or her boy wanted a toy sword. The first two are reason enough to keep it out of her hands. And the third? Well, he’s a bit of a brat, isn’t he? Do him good not to get it. But maybe we’ll keep you out of certain circles until we can be sure.”

“Wait, you mean she’s —”

“Alive? Oh yes, her and her boy. It’s not perfect immortality, but it’s close enough. From what I hear she spends most of her energies keeping herself and the boy going and anything that’s left goes towards finding the stone. And if she gets that, it will be perfect immortality and we’ll all be in trouble.” He seemed to notice Gary was shaking. He took Gary’s hands in his. “But no need to borrow trouble, eh? Stick with me, squire. I’ll keep you safe as houses.”

Gary had read Constantine’s file. He knew about the Newcastle crew and Astra. He knew Constantine had lost a lot of people. He knew Constantine’s stint in the asylum probably meant that Constantine himself had trouble believing he could keep anyone safe. But the warlock’s hands were warm, his grip solid, and those eyes… He wanted to believe, and so he did.

“Then let’s go kill a dragon.” _How hard could it be?_


End file.
